Jondy
by Abandon Structure
Summary: Two separate incidents in the life of Jondy, the first in Albuquerque with Lydecker, the second in LA with Zack.
1. Lydecker

A/N: Some random X5 escapee drabble I wrote at least a year ago. Two chapters that can actually stand on their own. Part of a possible series of one or two chapters stories about the original X5 escapees. Not related to Toy Soldiers-verse in the least.

Chapter 1

"Shit, shit, _shit, Shit!_" Skidding around a corner, Jondy paused just long enough to regain her balance before taking off at a dead run.

They just had to pick today, of all days, to get lucky.

Course, Lydecker would say luck had nothing to do with it. Same as Zack.

If Zack were here, he'd say she'd gotten sloppy, gotten careless. That she'd forgotten too much of her training if she let some _Ordinary _guards trap her in some back alley outside of Albuquerque.

If Zack were here, she'd be in a lot less trouble. Two X5's were a hell of a lot harder to take down than one.

Course, Jondy had no intention of making it _easy._

"Alright, alright. Think, Jay, think." Turning into another alley, she spotted an alcove that could provide her with cover while she took a few minutes to regroup.

_Well, _she thought, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm when really she was about ready to hyperventilate.

_This is a fine kettle of fish._ The first time she'd heard that phrase, she'd been a confused nine year old, newly escaped from Manticore, eating a slice of pie a nice trucker had bought for her.

Him and his companions had found her in the back of his rig. She'd calculated the odds against her favor in an all out fight and had allowed her capture. However, instead of torturing her for information, or calling Lydecker and a TAC Team, they'd taken her inside a nearby mess hall and fed her pie.

His name had been Tony. Jondy had lived with him and his family for five months while she acclimated herself to this strange new world.

She'd left, knowing that it wasn't safe, but she carried those fond memories with her always.

"God, I wish I could make memories come alive, cause Tony would so be a welcome presence right about now." Her voice was quiet, barely registering in this busy city, but any noise could give her away.

_Stupid,_ she chastised herself, pressing further back against the door behind her, frantically looking right, then left.

She could feel them, even if she couldn't see them. Her instincts were screaming _Danger!_

_Too long. _She'd been standing in one spot for too fucking long. It wasn't safe.

Pushing away from the wall, she blurred out of the alley to her next point of cover, a rusted out van, circa the early 1960's.

Ducking down behind the van, she checked her breathing again.

She'd hated this game back at Manticore. She'd never been good at it, not like Max and Ben. She always let fear get the best of her.

She couldn't afford to let fear beat her now.

Two separate TAC Teams rounded the corner, emerging from the alley she'd just vacated.

_Good timing._

She took count, making note of their weapons, their armor.

_And me without a gun._

It was a dumb, stupid move that was going to get her killed one of these days.

_But not today._

One TAC broke away from the others, venturing too near to her hiding place. Ducking lower, til she was belly to the ground, she crawled under the body of the van until she could see his feet.

She had seconds, literally, to do what needed to be done.

Digging her fingers into the ground, she hauled herself, literally by her fingertips, out from under the van, biting her lip bloody to keep from making a sound.

Her upper body emerged and she curled back to pull her legs out, gently, carefully placing them on the ground, securing her balance.

Rising to her feet, she reached forward in a lightening fast grip and, yanking the TAC backwards, snapped his neck.

Picking up the body, she slipped back around the van, quickly an efficiently removing his armor and yanking it on over her clothes.

It was too big, and if any of the other TAC's looked too closely, they'd know something was up, but they weren't here to stare at each other.

They were looking for her.

She was going to make damned sure they didn't find her.

Hoisting the dead man's weapons, a modified M16 assault rifle, two pistols, an M-9 and a Sig Sauer, his personal piece, she carefully checked to make sure everything was in place before slipping the com unit in her ear and taking her place at the tail end of the squad.

_[TAC Team Alpha, report, over.]_

_[Negative, Command. I repeat, Negative. We have not located the subject, over]_

_[Affirmative, Alpha. Move to Checkpoint 7, over.]_

_[Understood. Alpha out.]_

_Making this easy on her, how nice of them. _

Jondy kept her breathing even as Alpha Team Leader took point, breaking into a light jog the rest of them following.

_Like little duckies, following their mama._

It was about half a click to Checkpoint 7, and Jondy could hear the rest of Alpha Team breathing heavy.

_Ordinaries_, she thought with derision. Normally she was fond of them, hell, she even envied them. But the way they hunted her, like an animal that needed to be brought to heel, she was wishing a whole hell of a lot worse than heavy breathing on their asses.

Checkpoint 7 was a mid point in the perimeter.

_Halfway there_.

"Michaels, Folsen, cover the outer perimeter. Jacobs, Coulter, head back and take up positions halfway between here and Checkpoint 8. Connors, Williams, you're with me on the inner perimeter. Move!"

Jondy stayed where she was, waiting for the rest of the team to break ranks so she could figure out which one she was supposed to be, when someone jostled her from behind.

"Come on, Folsen," Michaels, it had to be Michaels, jostled her again, pushing her past the checkpoint.

Outer perimeter put them past the halfway point, in visual range of the inner perimeter of Checkpoint 8.

_Now to get past it._

Hedging her bets, Jondy was pretty sure they were going to discover the body in a matter of minutes, so she had seconds to create a plan and implement it.

_How about takeout? Maybe if I volunteer for a food run…_

_Snap out of it!_

Taking a couple of steps to the side, she watched her partner and the two Checkpoint 8 guards. When none of them made any move to stop her, she took a few more, moving stealthily into the shadows until she was well outside of their visual range.

The steady hum of an approaching helicopter had her looking up directly into the searchlight of a MH-60 Blackhawk helicopter.

_[You've moved outside your position, Alpha 7. Return to your post, over]_

Like hell.

Sprinting, she could hear frantic yelling over her com unit, but her heartbeat was once again filling her ears.

_What's the first rule?_

The first, and only, rule, according to the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and to any Manticore soldier worth their salt, was _Don't Panic._

Her breathing steadied, her pulse lowering from hyperventilating levels to slightly elevated.

The voices in her ear went from a meaningless jumble, to tactically significant information.

_[…heading West. I repeat, subject is dressed in a TAC suit, heading West. Subject is armed, over.]_

_[Confirmed. Charlie Team is moving to intercept from the East, over.]_

_[Confirmed. Delta moving in from the South, over. Do we have subject identification, over]_

_[Negative. Complete information is as follows: female, mid teens, 14 to 17. Possible targets: 452, 210, 701, 386. TI-17 is processing information as we speak.]_

_[Tell the walking talking Think Tank to factor this in: we've found Folsen. I repeat, we found Folsen. Dead, approximately fifteen minutes, over]_

_[Affirmative. Patching information through now.] _

_What the hell is a 'walking talking' Think Tank?_

_Irrelevant. Keep running._

Ducking again to avoid the search light, she threw herself sideways into an abandoned parking garage to buy some time.

The tactical armor was making her skin crawl and she wanted to take it off so bad, she had to literally lean against her hands to stop herself. It may be uncomfortable, both physically and mentally, but it was the best advantage she had so far.

_[All teams, this is Command. Information processed, results are as follows: possible targets are 386 and 701.]_

_WTF?_

She may have been outside of Manticore a while, but even she couldn't forget the basics from that place, the primary one being her own damned barcode.

And last she checked, the twelve digit serial that had defined her life from birth didn't end with 386 _or _701.

So why the hell did they think she was either Vada or Syl?

_Later. _She'd wonder about all this later. Right now, she had bigger things to consider.

The suit had to go.

Shrugging out of the armor, she breathed an audible sigh of relief as the cool night air once more caressed her skin.

Winter in Albuquerque was a nice even sixty degrees Fahrenheit, warm enough that a jacket really wasn't necessary, but her bright red top stood out like blood on an albino.

Picking up the jacket from the discarded pile of armor, she shrugged into it, packing up the rest of the stuff and shoving it under some loose debris. The guns, she kept.

The M16 slung easily over her chest with a quick adjustment of the strap. Slinging it on under the jacket, she shoved the Sig Sauer in the back of her low slung boot cut jeans, and tightened her grip on the M-9. Slipping the com unit in her ear, she breathed out.

Moving out of her hiding spot, she skirted through a city of broken cars, cardboard boxes, and homeless bums.

She had to get out of this perimeter. The longer she was trapped inside, the more organized the enemy could become. And a more organized enemy meant her chances of a successful outcome decreased greatly.

Already, a good half an hour had gone by since the first Manticore Humvee had come squealing to a stop outside the apartment she'd been squatting in.

Nearest she could figure, somebody had gotten a gander at her barcode, somebody who knew Manticore, or had some dealings with a proxy company Manticore owned and operated.

She needed to get rid of the damned barcode. She'd perfected the art of blending in with her surroundings, but that damned barcode stood out like a sore thumb, marking her, branding her.

_Property, not Person. Thing, not Human._

Fuck 'em.

Rounding a corner, she ducked down just as a TAC Team went rushing past.

_Too close._

_Focus, Jondy._

Continuing towards where the TAC Team had come from, she reached a chain link fence running parallel to the street.

Twenty-feet, chain link.

_No barbed wire, _she thought with dark humor. Beat Manticore fences.

It was a tight fit though. She wasn't going to have much luck with a simple up and over.

_Duck and roll_ _it is._

Moving back until she was pressed against the wall, she breathed shallowly, listening for approaching footsteps, monitoring the comms, and calculating how much force she needed to put into her jump and when, exactly, she needed to duck and roll.

Footsteps were running towards her, boots, combat boots, slapping the ground in a steady rhythm.

_Time to go._

Three steps forward, pushing herself off from the wall with force to give her momentum. She bent her knees, balanced on the balls of her feet, and pushed up.

_[Contact! Bravo Team has contact!]_

More chatter, but Jondy was too busy to take immediate notice.

Curling her body up, she rolled, head over heels, the ground rushing to meet her.

She landed on her feet, bending her knees to absorb the impact.

_[Holy fucking shit! She jumped the fence! Did you see that?! Did you fucking see that?!!]_

_[Don't lose her, Bravo!]_

"Don't move!" Jondy froze, turning slowly to find herself caught in the sight of six assault rifles, pointed at her through the fence.

And standing at the front, the bane of her existence.

Colonel Donald Michael Lydecker. Father figure, God-head. He gave them life and he took it just as easily, like they were nothing.

"Which one are you? Vada, Syl?"

Jondy stared into his eyes, cold blue abyss, and smiled.

"Fucking shit!!!"

Jondy didn't think, didn't stop. Gun up, finger on the trigger.

Double tap the leader, moving to the side.

Shock at the arc of exploding gray matter had them hesitating, eyes wide with shock.

She squeezed off two more shots as she blurred away.

Shouting in her ear, shouting behind her, and the steady sound of her tennis shoes hitting the pavement.

She emerged from the alley into open air, no TAC teams in sight.

Hotwiring a bike and ditching the guns, she hauled ass out of Albuquerque and headed North.

A/N: What's the sound of one hand hitting you upside the head? I have no idea, but if you leave a review...


	2. Zack

Chapter 2

Sweet sixteen, near as she could figure.

Ducking out of the back alley pub she'd spent the afternoon and the better part of the night in, she laughed at the departing catcalls and turned down three offers to bear children.

Smiling and shaking her head as she made her way down the alley, she stared up at the Los Angeles sky.

The stars were unbelievably bright.

_Too optimistic for their own good. _Most of them were already dead, but it would take years for them to disappear.

_Dead man walking._

Pedestrians moved in and out of the alley, so Jondy was careful to note their positions, and keep her exits open.

It was a mile from the pub to her apartment.

_Tactical suicide._

_Avoid hanging out at places near your base._ If you were compromised, it made it easier for them to track you.

_Good ol' Manticore._

Of course, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

Halfway home, walking down a side street, Jondy froze, mid-step.

_Definitely not paranoia._

She could feel…something.

_Someone._

A lone figure, male, face hidden by a ball cap, leaning against the wall.

He wasn't making any threatening moves, and she couldn't see any visible signs of weapons or back-up, but something was most definitely off.

Ducking down a side alley, one of the many alternate routes, she picked up the pace, proceeding at a light jog.

At first, there was nothing, but then…

Footsteps. Dogging her, echoing her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the figure, the same one from before, following her.

_Definitely not a coincidence._

Time to go full throttle.

Breaking into a full out run, she blurred through the streets, zigging and zagging, ducking into secondary routes, then pulling out a few tertiary ones as well.

Finally, after about a half and hour of running herself dizzy, she stopped.

Ducking into a public restaurant, she found a booth in the corner, ducking low to keep an eye on the street.

"Can I get you anything, sweetheart?"

"Milk," Jondy ordered, smiling briefly up at the waitress.

_Be polite, friendly. Be nice, but don't be too nice. Blend, make it so that they'll see you while you're there, then forget you the second you leave._

Fifteen minutes later, with no visible tail, Jondy finished her milk, paid for it with a wad of cash she'd won playing pool earlier, and left.

She walked back to her apartment, eyes and ears peeled for a Manticore type carnival and finding none.

She climbed the five stories to her apartment in silence, reaching the door, her senses hyper-alert as she waited outside the door, listening for movement inside.

When nothing but the steady hum of the city below greeted her super-enhanced hearing, she sighed and inserted her key in the lock.

Only to find herself pressed, face first, against the wall, a hard male body pinning her there, familiar ball cap brim pressing against the side of her face.

"You don't return to your base of operations once it's been compromised, soldier."

His voice, harsh and judging, grated in her ear, echoing in her head as she pushed back against him, struggling for leverage.

"Get off of me," she managed to get out, her jaw barely moving.

"Stop struggling." Again, with the ordering.

"Bite me!"

Laughter.

_This asshole was laughing at her!_

Her struggles renewed, she managed to push off the wall an inch or so, but was quickly pressed back, her arm wrenched behind her back, elbow pressed into her lumbar.

"Stop struggling, Jondy, and use your nose."

_He called me Jondy._

There were very few people who knew her name. Her unit, and Manticore brass.

He was too strong to be an ordinary, and her nose was telling her…

Her struggles ceased.

"Zack?"

But that was impossible. Zack had gotten caught. She'd seen him go down, multiple tasers attached to his writher twelve-year old frame.

"I'm not going back there," she declared defiantly. "I'll make you kill me first."

"I'm not with them, baby sister." As if to prove his words, he let her go, stepping back, out of reach as she whirled around to face him.

He was tall, or at least, taller than her. Five eleven, at least. He filled out too, a lot. Muscles flexed on his well proportioned frame.

His face, though…

He removed his ballcap and Jondy stared.

Same blue eyes, same stubborn jaw, and same tight lipped expression he wore when he was nervous, though his lips were a bit fuller now.

But it was him. His scent was unmistakable, even after all these years.

"Zack," she breathed, throwing herself at him, tears welling up in her ears.

Seven years with no contact, seven years of not knowing, at least until six months ago, if anybody other than herself had made it.

And here Zack was, the big brother she'd wake up crying for on the nights she could sleep. Her protector, her defender.

"What took you so long?"

Wrapped up in the arms of his pack, breathing in the familiar scent of yet another lost child found, Zack did something he rarely ever did, but had already done twice this evening because of the warm female in his arms.

He laughed.

* * *

"Seven, huh?" Jondy removed the tea kettle from the hotplate and shook her head, marveling.

"And the others? Who else made it?"

"You, me. Seth, Vada, Tinga, Krit, Syl, Kavi, Brin, Ben, Zane, and Max."

"Max?" Jondy whirled around. "Max made it?"

"Yes," Zack stared at her, confused. "Didn't you escape together?"

"We got separated. She fell through the ice…you're sure she made it?"

"Inside sources confirmed it. One of the on-site staff transported her to a secondary location. They found traces of her DNA, and signs of her departure."

It was like escaping all over again.

A giant weight lifted from her shoulders.

"How long have you been tracking me?"

"Less than a day. I picked up your scent in Mulligan's."

"You were there?" Jondy blinked in surprise.

"Only for a little while. I tracked your scent here, staked out your most likely route home, and waited." Zack got to his feet in a graceful move, stretching like a cat as he practically marched to the kitchen to accept his tea.

"You shouldn't have come back here once you knew you were made," Zack frowned disapprovingly. Jondy rolled her eyes, grinning when Zack blinked at her in surprise.

"Seven years without discipline, oh great and powerful CO." It was Zack's turn to roll his eyes.

"It's not safe here. You need to move." Even though she'd been thinking along the same lines earlier, it irked her to have Zack suddenly appear and take over her life.

"I've been my own commander too long to start taking orders from you now," Jondy stated by way of a reply, displeasure apparent as she sipped her tea.

"Then take a suggestion. If I can find you, Lydecker can. You've got a couple of days, max, before a TAC Team busts down your door and hauls your ass back."

"Lydecker doesn't have the same skill set we do," Jondy tapped her nose pointedly.

"Not by himself," Zack agreed, "but that doesn't mean he can't find help."

"What we have, they have," Jondy agreed with a frown, staring down into her cup.

She looked up at Zack. "You don't think they'll utilize other X-series to hunt us down?"

Zack stared at her for a long moment before exhaling harshly through his nose.

"No, I don't. Though a smart idea, Manticore wouldn't want to utilize a loyal X5 and risk losing him to an '09er."

They fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

_He wasn't going to stay._

Though she hadn't been the tactical genius of the bunch, she wasn't stupid. They stood a better chance of living under the radar by themselves than together. One person was easier to forget than two. The less connections, mental or otherwise, they had to each other, the better off they were.

"When are you leaving?" Zack jerked his head to stare at her, small frown lines forming in the middle of his forehead.

"Tonight. So should you." Setting his cup in the sink, Zack turned around, leaning back, and stared.

His baby sister, all grown up. A lot was different. The Jondy he knew had been…softer. It was odd that seven years on the outside had hardened her in ways nine years on the inside had failed to.

"You've changed." Her lips quirked upwards in a mockery of a smile.

"And you haven't. Well, aside from the obvious." Jondy motioned to his physique.

Zack shrugged in response, slightly uncomfortable. He'd never felt the need to change, not since he entered puberty. His priority then, and his priority now, was keeping his family, his pack, safe. It was a bone deep purpose that practically crawled from his skin.

"Come on," Zack stated, pushing away from the sink. "Let's go."

_Now?_

Jondy opened her mouth to protest, but shut it. Zack was anxious, practically fidgeting.

_And so was she._

"Let me grab my stuff."

Fifteen minutes later, she crouched behind Zack on his bike, zooming through a checkpoint five miles away while Lydecker and co pulled up outside of her former apartment.

* * *

"You packing?"

"Glock 38, three extra clips."

"Secondary?"

"Sig Sauer P226 and a K-Bar."

"You're carrying a P226?" Zack arched an eyebrow and Jondy smiled.

"I like it. Got my hands on one last time Manticore tracked me down. Saved my ass."

Zack eyed her as her eyes dropped, her attention going to digging through her duffle.

They'd driven through the night, X-5 durability at it's finest, arriving in Phoenix just after noon.

Checking into a motel for a quick rest period before splitting up and going their separate ways.

"I'll take watch," Jondy stated, holding up her hand when Zack moved to protest.

"I'm not tired. Shark DNA." Zack nodded.

He'd forgotten. Jondy, Max, and Riley all had to have shark DNA because they hardly ever slept.

Lying on top of the bed, he made sure his guns were within reach before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, inhaling Jondy's familiar scent, and exhaling, already entering his REM cycle.

It was a learned skill, one Jondy had never bothered to master. Why would she? She didn't sleep anyways.

_Let the boredom begin._

Zack would need four, five hours of sleep.

Deciding that her Sig could use a good cleaning, she removed her gun cleaning kit from her duffle and set to work.

Disassembling the P226, she walked a careful ledge, balancing her focus on listening for anything out of the ordinary and keeping her eye on the job.

A quick hour later, the P226 was clean enough to be defined as new, and Jondy was moving on to the Glock 38.

The 38 took a little less time.

_Two down, three to go._

Doing a quick check to make sure the area was still secure, she switched her Sig for one of Zack's Beretta's and set about performing the same actions as before.

Two hours later, Jondy balanced on the two back legs of her chair, Zack's Beretta in hand, eyes on the man of the hour.

_I wonder what would happen if I. Did. This._

Zack was on his feet, her Sig in hand, expression pure soldier, calm and deadly, as he centered his sights on her.

She watched his face run the gauntlet of emotions, smiling when he finally moved into confusion.

"What's wrong with this gun?" He held the Sig up for inspection.

"Nothing," Jondy replied, slinging his Beretta back at him. "It's a customized grip."

"You customized the grip? When'd you get time for that?"

"Did a favor for a guy in Santa Fe. He rushed it for me, only took a couple of hours."

"Nice," Zack murmured, impressed as he tossed the Sig back to her.

_That's a good baby._

Running her hand across her gun with a faint smile, she slid it behind her back, the Glock already safely packed in her bag.

"We'll hit the border tonight," Zack decided.

"You can hit the border," Jondy replied, shrugging into her jacket. "I'm heading east."

"Our best bet is to get out of the country, not cross country travel. You'll leave a paper trail a mile wide!"

Jondy sighed.

"I've got a plan."

"Does this plan include a long term stay in Psy-Ops?"

"No, it includes cross country travel via hitchhiking. Truckers only have to open their trucks going across state lines. I can sneak in and across state lines, find another truck, and ride to the next state."

"What about supplies?"

"I'll pack a lunch," Jondy sassed, earning her an angry look.

"You know, this is what I hate the most."

"Truckers?" Jondy hazarded, confused at Zack's sudden expression of emotion. It made him seem…human.

_First the laughter, now this. If I hadn't seen his barcode for myself, I'd think I was dealing with a clone._

_Or a pod person._

Transgenics existed. Why couldn't Pod People?

"The sarcasm, the questioning of my orders. The smart ass personality. I wonder, sometimes, if it's a general X5 trait, or if we're just special."

"Come again?"

"You, Zane, Syl, Krit. The only one who doesn't sass me is Ben, but that's just because he doesn't listen to me, period."

"Ben? Seriously?"

_It boggles the mind._

Back at Manticore, Ben had been a great soldier. He followed orders, he lived the Manticore creed. Duty, Discipline. Mission.

Teamwork.

"Yeah," Zack's gaze drifted to the left, a clear indication that he wasn't comfortable with this subject matter.

"So, East. New York?" It was an obvious change of subject, one that Jondy wanted desperately to call him on, but, hell. Zack was entitled to his privacy.

The way she saw it, the first thing any of the others had done upon encountering him had been to barrage him with questions about the rest of the escapees.

_The mind is screaming, but the ego knows better._

She wasn't going to ruin the little time they had by asking him about the others.

"Nah, too cold. I was thinking more like…Miami."

"Miami?" Jondy grinned outright at his surprised expression.

"Yeah. I'm gonna get my tan on."

"Jesus," Zack stared at her, reaching up and running his hands through his hair, expression a mixture of blind shock, and displeasure.

All those horny, beach-buffed guys with more brawn than brains and even less class, hanging around his sister.

"No," he was already shaking his head, ruffling through his stuff in search of a map.

"No way are you going to Miami."

_Oh how the mighty have fallen._

A/N: Tell me what you think. Pretty please?_  
_


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